


scientific integrity

by alderations



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Forced Orgasm, Kinda, Light Bondage, Multiple Orgasms, Orgy, Pegging, Science, Tentacles, Threesome - F/F/F, Trans Character, Vibrators, raphaella talks about experimental design as foreplay, sexy science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alderations/pseuds/alderations
Summary: Raphaella has a spreadsheet open on the screen in front of her, which means that they are, in fact, doing Science.Is it Science that involves Ivy splayed across a lab bench, topless and kissing Nastya within an inch of her life? Perhaps.
Relationships: Ivy Alexandria/Raphaella la Cognizi, Ivy Alexandria/Raphaella la Cognizi/Nastya Rasputina, The Aurora/Nastya Rasputina, The Aurora/The Mechanisms Ensemble, polymechs
Comments: 10
Kudos: 84





	scientific integrity

Raphaella has a spreadsheet open on the screen in front of her, which means that they are, in fact, doing Science.

Is it Science that involves Ivy splayed across a lab bench, topless and kissing Nastya within an inch of her life? Perhaps. But Raphaella is too busy combing her girlfriend’s close-cropped hair aside, searching for the thin strip of metal hiding the access ports to her mechanical brain, to pay much attention to what’s going on in front of her. She finds the port she’s looking for, then pulls a slim cable out of a jar of disinfectant at the far end of the lab bench and plugs one end into a large monitor looming over the three of them. “Ivy, love, I need your attention for a moment.”

Ivy sounds like she’s close to drowning when she flops back toward her, which is fair, given Raphaella’s experience with Nastya’s mouth. “I’m ready.”

Still, she flinches when Raphaella connects the cable to her brain, and her eyes roll back in her head, only to snap forward a moment later. “Is that alright?” Raphaella asks, keeping a hand on her shoulder to ground her.

“It  _ is  _ always that weird, isn’t it?”

Nastya nods. “I can only imagine what that feels like when it’s feeding directly into your brain.”

For a brief moment, Raphaella is distracted by the way Ivy looks up at Nastya, adoration swimming in her eyes. She doesn’t envy Ivy’s brain for the most part, but she wouldn’t mind getting to see Nastya for the first time every single day. Then the monitor blinks to life, and Raphaella is instantly back in Science Mode. “Ooh, Ivy, your brain is just  _ beautiful!” _

Pulses of light criss-cross the screen as Ivy’s brainwaves overwhelm the processors, before Raphaella makes some adjustments on her spreadsheet and the display settles into a more typical waveform. “I can—I can see myself  _ thinking,”  _ Ivy realizes in wonder. “I knew I would, but it’s… a little scary, honestly.”

“You’re not here to think,” Raphaella reminds her.

Ivy’s head lifts off the table again, as if suddenly remembering that she’s being ravaged. Meanwhile, Nastya makes quick work of the buttons on Ivy’s shirt, then pulls her skirt off her hips as she leans down to suck one of Ivy’s nipples between her teeth. The display flares with light. “That is  _ very  _ satisfying,” Nastya hums into Ivy’s chest.

If Ivy’s face is anything to go by, she’s too overwhelmed to keep track of Nastya and her own brain waves at the same time. “You’re going to take your sweet time teasing me, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Nastya replies. She takes over fondling Ivy’s chest with one hand, while the other strokes her over her underwear, fingers impossibly light. Every shuddering gasp from Ivy coincides with something jumping on the screen, and it takes a surprising amount of self-control for Raphaella to keep her own clothes on, at least for the time being.

She double-checks that the data on the monitor are actually being recorded to her spreadsheet, ensures that the units make sense and the columns are properly labeled, and then, finally, lets her legs fall apart and grinds the heel of her hand against herself through her shorts. “I think… if preliminary trials are successful,” she starts, “we should replicate them. Maybe try different types of orgasms? Measure the intervals between them? There are  _ so  _ many confounding variables to consider, we could—”

“Please be quiet,” Nastya interrupts with a stony glare. “I’m trying to focus.”

Then she pulls Ivy’s underwear down with her teeth, which is not something Raphaella ever would’ve imagined her doing. For someone with such a strong preference for machines, she apparently knows how to seduce humans just as well. Her fingers brush across Ivy’s folds lightly enough to make her shiver. “Nastya,” Ivy sighs, already prepared to beg.

“Be patient,” Nastya chides.

Before Ivy can respond, Nastya gets to work, sucking her clit between her lips and holding her thighs open with firm hands. Orgasms are not always an easy feat for Ivy—a side effect of the robot brain, Raphaella figures—but Nastya seems unbothered by the challenge. As Ivy squirms on the lab bench, Raphaella circles her hips against her own hand and watches the readouts on the monitor grow more erratic and intense.

The waves are surprisingly messy, almost as disorganized as she’d expect from a human brain, which Raphaella notes with interest. Unlike an organic brain, Ivy’s seems to stabilize itself relatively fast, which would explain how she tends to plateau for a long time before coming unless she’s overstimulated right from the beginning. Raphaella grabs the notebook sitting open on the table next to herself and writes that down without looking, still rubbing herself with her other hand. She’s used to reading her own over-excited handwriting. It’s fine. “Oh, whatever you just did, that felt  _ good,”  _ she comments at a particularly fast spike on the monitor.

“Sh-she—she’s sucking my fucking soul out,” Ivy moans.

“Now  _ that  _ would be an experiment.” Raphaella sits up and gets one leg under herself so she can see a bit better. The sheer intensity of focus on Nastya’s face is a delight in and of itself. She keeps glancing up at the screen, and Raphaella watches as her eyes narrow behind her glasses like she’s running calculations on the fly. Honestly, she could be. But her dilated pupils and silver-flushed cheeks imply that, even if she  _ is  _ taking a mathematical approach, it’s working for her.

Needless to say, it’s  _ definitely  _ working for Ivy. When Nastya pulls back just enough to flick her tongue lightly across her clit, Ivy’s stomach twitches, and the waves spike in rhythm with Nastya’s every breath. She’s not using her hands at all, except where her thumbs spread Ivy open to give her mouth room to work. After a few minutes of alternating delicate licks and harder sucking, Nastya starts nipping at Ivy’s tender skin here and there, in between pressing her tongue into her hole and then dragging it over her clit with just enough pressure to overwhelm Ivy. Raphaella can tell when Ivy gets close—the readout from her brain goes fast and fuzzy, and she reaches down to palm the back of Nastya’s head as she grinds up into her mouth. She’s usually not that loud unless she’s  _ really  _ getting fucked, but when Nastya leans in even closer and does something with her tongue that Raphaella can’t even see, Ivy  _ really  _ starts to moan.

“Oh, she’s almost there,” Raphaella encourages. “Look at her gorgeous brain, about to fry itself. Show Nastya exactly what she does to you, sweetness.”

Ivy squeezes her eyes shut and claws at Nastya’s hair. “Nas—Nastya,” she cries, hips rising off the lab bench, “I’m—oh, oh,  _ oh, oh!” _

Raphaella remembers to look up just in time to watch Ivy’s brain waves nearly white out the screen, building to a crescendo and then… flatlining. “That doesn’t seem right,” she murmurs, staring at the solid line on the screen, then down at Ivy, who’s still panting and twitching through the aftershocks of her orgasm. “Ivy? You in there?”

After a good ten seconds, which feel  _ much  _ longer to Raphaella, Ivy raises a shaky hand and gives her a thumbs-up, while Nastya licks her a few more times for good measure and then pulls away. She has to detangle Ivy’s clenched hand from her hair. “Come here,” Nastya commands, beckoning Raphaella with one hand.

“You are… too  _ fucking _ good at that,” Ivy breathes.

Nastya pulls Raphaella in by the front of her shirt once she’s close enough and kisses her, open-mouthed and sloppy, and Raphaella can feel herself getting wetter by the second. She rests her forehead against Nastya’s when the engineer finally lets her go. “Your brain stopped,” she says to Ivy. “Like, completely flatlined. I think it just shut off for a second. Does it  _ always  _ do that?”

Ivy snorts. “I stopped thinking for once. So maybe?”

“Could be that the fluctuations are too small to see at this scale,” Nastya suggests.

Below her, Ivy heaves a few more breaths and then slowly sits up, grasping at Raphaella’s shoulder for support. “That’s a good point. I’ll have to check the numbers later,” Raphaella remembers. “For right now, can I unplug you, love?”

“Please.” As Ivy leans forward into her chest, Raphaella removes the cord from her brain as gently as she can manage, then slides the metal panel closed and combs Ivy’s hair back into place with her fingers. She lets the end of the cable fall back toward the monitor, to deal with after Ivy is done clinging to her. “You… smell really good,” Ivy mumbles.

Raphaella frowns. “That, uh, could be toxic. Probably don’t breathe it in too deep.” That doesn’t sway Ivy whatsoever, so Raphaella pushes her back gently and goes to unplug the cord from the monitor and swap it out for one that will fit Nastya’s port. “What do you think, Nastya? Still interested in providing some data?”

“If it involves, uh, what we talked about earlier, then yes. Please.” She takes the proffered cable when Raphaella holds it out and connects it to the port in her wrist, wincing as her processors whir to life in response to her being plugged in for once. “This… data collection won’t mess with my cybernetics, right?”

“It shouldn’t,” Raphaella responds, taking her wrist with gentle hands to examine the connection. Nastya’s skin is warmer than usual, though still cool to the touch, and Raphaella can’t stop herself from leaning down to kiss her palm and feel her fingers curl against her face. “I’ll have to fidget with the readouts for a minute, just to make sure that I’m actually getting the information we want, but none of that affects your body. Ivy? Will you get her warmed up for me?”

Ivy and Nastya both stare at her with hunger in their eyes. “Lube?” requests Ivy.

“Whatever she prefers. You know where it is.” The lab is well-stocked with industrial-sized vats of lube in every variety Raphaella could ever dream of finding, and a few that she would honestly rather forget. As Ivy walks Nastya through the collection, Raphaella edits the parameters on her readouts until the data are at least comparable to Ivy’s, give or take a few mathematical transformations. Carmilla was good at what she did, but Nastya’s cybernetics are the culmination of an old and  _ very  _ dedicated society that put most of their effort into augmented reality, so the information flooding in from Nastya’s body is enough to make Raphaella drool. Every system, organic or mechanical, is represented in excruciating detail, including some that are rendered obsolete by her mechanism—Raphaella bites her lip to keep from laughing at Nastya’s hemoglobin level, which is apparently negative. Since she knows how quickly she’ll get distracted if she doesn’t accomplish the task at hand, she sets about isolating the readings from Nastya’s brain, though she ensures that her spreadsheet is also recording information from her central processors. She’s curious to see which system is closer to Ivy’s mechanism.

By the time she looks up from her computer, Ivy and Nastya are making out on the lab bench once again. This time, Nastya leans back against the bench while Ivy boxes her in and sneaks a hand up her dress. They break away for a moment so Nastya can wiggle out of her tights, which gives Raphaella time to shed her own clothes and find her strap-on, which should really be easier to find given how often she uses the damn thing. The soft sounds of clothes rustling and kissing give way to Nastya’s subdued moans as she searches, cursing under her breath and doing her best to avoid bringing any of her more precarious experiments crashing down on herself. She finally finds her strap-on hanging on a drying rack next to a smattering of Erlenmeyer flasks, at which point she, of course, remembers hanging it there when she cleaned it after fucking Marius two days ago. By the time she has the harness on and adjusted, Ivy has Nastya laid out on the lab bench with her dress rucked up around her hips and three fingers in her.

Raphaella flutters over a pile of miscellaneous equipment to get back to them, because what’s the point of having wings if you can’t get to the good stuff faster? “Flip her over when she’s ready for me,” she tells Ivy with one hand on her shoulder. Ivy just nods, before pulling Nastya up by the front of her dress to kiss her, then withdrawing her fingers. Nastya’s glasses sit askew on her face, and she’s panting when Ivy lets her go, only to roll her over onto her stomach and push her back down onto the cold bench.

“I have to admit that I’m jealous,” Ivy teases. “You haven’t fucked me in, what, a week?”

“With this particular strap, maybe.” Raphaella sticks her tongue out at Ivy as she draws closer to Nastya, one hand stroking her hip. “How are you feeling, Nastya? Still want this?”

In front of her, Nastya is propped up on her elbows and looks almost bored, making it clear that Raphaella is taking too long to get on with it. “Very much. Sometime today, preferably.”

Raphaella looks up at the monitor, double-checking that it’s still displaying the readings she wants, then takes some of the lube that Ivy offers her like a good lab assistant and slicks up her strap. “Impatient. You wouldn’t want me to go too hard on you. After all, I _am_ a mad scientist.” She whispers the last few words in Nastya’s ear, leaning over her as she lines up the strap-on and teases her with it.

“You could never dream of doing half the things Aurora’s already done to me, so, do your worst.”

That’s enough of a challenge for Raphaella. She buries the strap in Nastya to the hilt, then gives her only a few moments to adjust before setting a harsh pace that has Nastya’s sarcasm giving way to needy gasps. The slap of her thighs against Nastya’s is more satisfying than she anticipated, and Raphaella flicks a lock of hair out of her face so she can see Nastya squirming under her unobstructed. “How’s that? Fast enough for you?”

Nastya tries to get her hands under herself for some leverage, only for Raphaella to push her back down with a hand between her shoulder blades. “F-fucking—yes, don’t stop,” she pants.

“Not planning to.” Raphaella’s fingers dig into Nastya’s hip, hopefully hard enough to leave bruises like gunmetal under her skin. Leaning down against the cool plane of Nastya’s back, she can feel the engineer’s body leaching her warmth, feel the way her own nipples harden when her breasts brush against the fabric of Nastya’s dress. She kisses the back of Nastya’s shoulders in soft contrast to the aggressive pace of her thrusts, soaking up the way she rocks back against her and rises into her touch. Behind her, Ivy’s fingers brush the backs of Raphaella’s thighs, then move forward to play with Nastya’s clit. “Don’t even think about it,” Raphaella warns, standing up to glare down at Ivy. “She gets to be touched when I say so.”

Ivy licks her lips and nods, delighted by Raphaella’s authoritative demands. “Fuck off,” Nastya whines.

In lieu of a response, Raphaella grabs Nastya’s ponytail and tugs it until her back arches. Nastya scrabbles at the lab bench, desperate for something to hold onto, then reaches back toward Raphaella, clawing at her arms, her hips, anything. “Seems you’re having a hard time keeping your hands to yourself,” Raphaella observes. “Aurora?”

Two tendrils of indeterminate machinery snap down from the ceiling, grasping Nastya’s wrists and pinning them to the table in front of her. Even Raphaella jumps a bit, never fully accustomed to how fast Aurora can move, but Nastya relaxes palpably under her, fingers twining with the cables pinning them down as she pulls forward against Raphaella’s hand in her hair. “Ra-aph,” she begs, “I’m—fuck that feels so  _ good.” _

“Hm, I bet it does.” The smugness in her voice makes Ivy laugh next to her.

“Please,  _ please,  _ touch me, I’m—I— _ fuck.” _

Raphaella cocks her head to the side while she debates with herself. “I don’t know, Ivy, do you think she’s earned it yet? She was being awfully bratty earlier, even if she does look  _ so  _ nice struggling on my cock.”

“She really does,” Ivy echoes, tracing her nails up Nastya’s side just to watch the way she shivers. “Plus, look at the monitor.”

Remembering their project with a start, Raphaella looks up to see Nastya’s brain waves sharp and erratic, not far from what Ivy’s looked like just before she came. “Mm, she’s close,” Raphaella notes with a smirk.

“I’m—I’m s-so close, Raph,  _ please?” _

As hard as she tries to be a no-nonsense domme, Raphaella is not immune to begging. In fact, she quite likes it. “Since you asked nicely. Aurora, you can touch her now.”

The mass of tendrils that drops from the ceiling makes Raphaella jump, but even though Nastya yelps at the way Raphaella jostles her, she doesn’t bat an eye at dozens of mechanical tentacles—for lack of a better word—descending on her from high. All at once, she’s surrounded by Aurora’s embrace and near-screaming every time Raphaella thrusts into her, overstimulated and painfully close to coming, so much so that Raphaella can tell the moment Aurora touches her clit. Raphaella gives her hair one more sharp tug as Nastya trembles and falls apart under her. She slows down at last, but Aurora doesn’t, so Raphaella just gets to watch as Nastya writhes and cries and struggles fruitlessly against the overwhelming strength of their spaceship. Only when Nastya is wrung out and limp against the lab bench does her girlfriend let up. “How—um, are you alright?” asks Raphaella, somewhat concerned that they fucked her brains out. Literally. The monitor tells a different story, though; unlike Ivy’s brain, Nastya’s settles back down in a relatively smooth curve, though the waves still spike every time Raphaella touches her.

“‘M fine,” Nastya mumbles into her own arm, once Raphaella lets go of her hair and lets her head loll forward. “Lemme… be with Aurora for a sec. Jus’ hold on.”

That’s not a surprising request, though it’s unusual to hear Nastya so debauched that she slurs her words. Raphaella is satisfied with herself, to say the least. “Take as much time as you want, love. I’m gonna pull out now, okay?”

Nastya nods, then whimpers at the feeling of the strap moving inside of her. Once Raphaella steps away, Aurora takes over, looping a few tendrils under Nastya’s body and lifting her into the air so that she’s ensconced in metal and wire and… what looks like a good bit of silicon. Raphaella doesn’t ask. Instead, she turns to Ivy, who’s watching her with the kind of reverence in her eyes that makes Raphaella want to drop to her knees immediately. “Ready to go again already, are we? Or just enjoying the show a bit too much?”

“As much as I would  _ love  _ to get fucked like that, there is a seventy-nine percent chance that someone in this room has other plans before we can get around to it.”

Raphaella looks up. Nastya is still blissed out and floating in Aurora’s grasp, but Aurora herself has flipped a small screen down to hover over the monitor.  **Your sample size is quite small already, but you can’t really call this an experiment without a control group.**

“I— _ oh.”  _ Raphaella blushes. “You’re right, I’d just need to find some… electrodes, my mechanism isn’t really built to...”

Helpful as ever, Aurora drops a couple of wires with tiny discs attached onto the lab bench, narrowly avoiding a small puddle of bodily fluids. “Someone’s prepared,” Ivy teases.

**Sound experimental design is important. If you’ll be patient with me for a few minutes, I may have some more equipment that your laboratory is lacking.**

“You absolutely stole these from my lab,” Raphaella protests as she picks up the electrodes and hands them off to Ivy, who brushes her hair aside to start applying them.

**Yes. But you do not have one of these.**

For about thirty seconds, Raphaella stares at the screen in blank confusion as a strange clunking sound arises from the belly of the ship and slowly grows louder. At last, a panel opens up in the ceiling, and something heavy drops to the ground with a loud  _ plunk.  _ It looks like a saddle, smooth and black with a textured bit in the middle and wires attaching the underside to Aurora herself. Raphaella regards in with cautious enthusiasm. “What… is that?”

**You will have to find out for yourself! :3c**

By the time Ivy finishes affixing the electrodes to Raphaella’s head, Nastya has come back to reality and unplugged herself from the monitor. “It is a  _ lot  _ of fun,” she assures Raphaella.

“Aurora’s in control of it?” Raphaella asks.

**It is directly linked to me, yes. I enjoy feeling how humans react to me.**

That concept makes Raphaella keenly aware of how wet she is. “Just—just let me look at the data,” she mumbles before plugging the electrodes into the monitor and playing with her spreadsheet once again. The dearth of data from Nastya is tempting, but she is too deep in Horny Mode to get sidetracked now. “This should… there. Oh, Ivy, you were right! I  _ can  _ see myself think.”

Ivy grabs Raphaella’s shoulders before she can distract herself, then steers her toward the weird saddle-thing. “I assume you just sit on this?” she suggests.

**Yes. Get comfortable now, because I don’t plan on letting you move once we begin.**

Raphaella shivers and settles onto the saddle as fast as her shaky legs will let her, savoring the way the textured bits rub against her folds. As soon as she opens her mouth to give Aurora the OK, a pair of tendrils emerge from above her and grab her arms, holding them in place above her head. She can still wiggle her hips a bit, but she’s not going anywhere. “I’m ready,” she breathes up at the ceiling. In front of her, the monitor shows her brain wavering with excitement, making her heart skip a beat.

**Good.**

The machine revs to life, and all of Raphaella’s expectations fall away in favor of wordless pleasure. It’s  _ strong,  _ to say the least, and it rumbles against her with the kind of power that makes her stomach clench as she struggles to stay upright. She’s had plenty of experience with a wide variety of vibrators in her life, but even Brian can’t hold a candle to this thing. “Fuck,” she manages after a few seconds. “Fuck,  _ fuck,  _ Aurora, this is—th-this is a lot.”

**Would you expect anything less?**

“Of c-course not.” Raphaella circles her hips a couple times, until she finds the best angle to grind down against the machine so that it’s just on the right side of overwhelming. She’s—she already has no idea how long it’s been, but she’s close to coming. “‘Rora, this is… does it have, like, lower s-settings? ‘Cause I’m—”

Aurora just turns the vibrations up, and though she doesn’t reply, Raphaella can  _ feel  _ the ship’s self-satisfaction at the way she shouts. “I told you,” Nastya comments.

“Sh-sh-shut up,” Raphaella gasps.

**That is not a very nice thing to say to my girlfriend.**

As punishment, Aurora cranks the vibration again. It’s so loud that Raphaella can’t hear whatever Ivy is saying to Nastya, can barely hear her own cries as she approaches her first orgasm. It’s a good one, by Raphaella’s exacting standards; she can feel it trickling down her limbs and shaking her core as her brain goes haywire on the screen in front of her. Her cunt clamps down around nothing. “F-f-f-fuck,” she shouts, sitting up on her knees when Aurora keeps pushing the vibrations higher and higher. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck Aurora let me—”

**Apologies, science officer, but the sample needs to be replicated.**

Oh. She is completely at Aurora’s mercy now, especially when another pair of tendrils winds around her waist and pins her down onto the saddle. Usually it would take her a good ten minutes at least to get worked up again, but she’s barely through her first orgasm before the next one starts building in her center. She’s not watching the screen anymore. There’s no way she can focus on anything else, when the vibrator is making every inch of her shake, forcing her to the edge of a second climax while Aurora pets her hair and reassures her with words she can’t read.

Nastya says something, but Raphaella can’t make it out over the sound of her own screaming as she comes again. If Aurora weren’t holding her down, she would’ve fallen off the vibrator already. “Please,  _ please,  _ it’s too much, it’s—I’m—”

**Once more. Come for me one more time, and then I’ll consider letting you go.**

Raphaella only has to suffer through the biting overstimulation for a minute or so before she does exactly what Aurora wants. This orgasm isn’t as strong as the first two, but she  _ aches  _ as her muscles spasm in an uncontrollable wave, her vision whiting out and her ears ringing over the sound of the vibrator. All she can feel is the soft flex of Aurora’s tendrils around her and the machine finally humming to a stop, and then, slowly, she starts to blink back to reality.

When she manages to open her eyes again, Ivy is there to help her up and support her weight, since she’s in no state to stand on her own. “Thanks,” she mumbles into her girlfriend’s hair between gasping breaths. “Okay, Nastya, I knew you had some diabolical tricks up your sleeve, but  _ wow.” _

**Are you alright? I didn’t go too far, did I?**

Always so earnest for a sentient battleship. “I would’ve given you what for if you had, Aurora. That thing is amazing.”

“Probably a whole slew of confounding variables, but that’s neither here nor there,” Nastya remarks.

Raphaella rolls her eyes. “Don’t think I’m done with this project. Brian’s next. Ooh, Ivy, do you think we could get him to have multiples?”

As Ivy runs the calculations, Nastya slips out of her girlfriend-tendril-hammock and comes over to loop an arm around Raphaella and plant a kiss on her head. “You two have fun with that. Right now, I think a cuddle pile is in order.”

“Seconded,” says Ivy.

Raphaella wants to complain about the electrode goo in her hair, much less the wetness coating her inner thighs, but she’s barely standing as is, and she’ll have plenty of time to clean up and fawn over the data later. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about our project,” she tells the other three. “Aurora. Do you think we can make something from the data, if we collect some more?”

**It’s certainly a start. I have never doubted you, Raphaella.**

“If anyone can figure out how a spaceship can orgasm, it would be… me, actually. It’d be me,” Nastya concludes. “But you’re proving to be very helpful.”

Raphaella should’ve known that the engineer would be insufferable to work with. Well, when they weren’t fucking. “Just take me to the cuddle pile before I fall over.”

**Author's Note:**

> GUESS WHAT EVERYONE! I wrote over 50k words in August!! And then this was a Challenge cuz my brain was like "ok I sleep now." But I could not stop thinking about Raph pegging Nastya, so eventually the horny factor took over and here we are. This started as a discussion about how a spaceship would have an orgasm, and then how a spaceship could be given the programming/have her existing programming manipulated to orgasm, and then I was like "but what if they had to ~collect data~ from all the robot brains heheheh." Also just, y'know, the powerful desire to be dommed by a spaceship? Heck yeah.
> 
> I realized this is literally the first time I've written smut with a trans woman character, so like. if I made any glaring mistakes please lmk?? I know I was super super vague about Nastya, but I have uhhh other things I'd like to write where I can't get away with being so vague, so I'm gonna have to get off my transmasc "ah yes I Know how to write the Trans Things" bullshit and do my research lol.
> 
> pls leave comments? kudos? pats on the head? i am up very late past my bedtime? one comment = one minute earlier i go to bed tomorrow night perhaps? follow me on tumblr @alderations and twitter @alderwrites to Scream. I'm always down to take prompts/suggestions (though my to-do list is getting, uh, robust). thank u for reading <3


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